


Shower Power

by semperama



Series: Tumblr Ficlets - Pinto [25]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Clubbing, Gay Bar, M/M, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-12-04 06:11:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11549142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperama/pseuds/semperama
Summary: Zach takes Chris to a gay club, and Chris feels things he isn't supposed to be feeling.





	Shower Power

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently this "Shower Power" thing is a real thing that happens at the gay club Chris went to for his birthday in Vancouver. :D

“What the fuck,” Chris says into Zach’s ear, “are those?”

So it’s a gay club. So Chris expected to be met with some sights that he isn’t exactly used to. He has mentally prepared himself for a fuck-ton of glitter, for short shorts, for people groping each other on the dance floor and maybe even groping _him_. What he hasn’t mentally prepared for are the half-dozen transparent boxes situated at even intervals at the edge of the dance floor. Boxes filled with mostly naked men. Mostly naked men taking showers.

“It’s called Shower Power!” Zach says blithely. He takes Chris by the arm and pulls him nearer to the closest makeshift shower stall, close enough to see the water beading on the leather hot pants the man inside is sporting. Well, probably faux leather. Surely no one would ruin real leather so irresponsibly. “It’s supposed to, like, play off men’s shame about ogling other men in locker rooms. You feel instinctively like you shouldn’t look, but here you can, and that’s what makes it hot.”

Zach has one thing right: Chris certainly feels like he shouldn’t be looking. He rubs the back of his neck and tries to focus his gaze somewhere relatively harmless, like on the man’s kneecap or his toes, but his eyes keep creeping upward of their own volition and landing on his gleaming abs or the rivulets of water running over his biceps. It’s hard to tell whether his stomach is lurching out of mortification or arousal. Which he guesses is really the point.

“I don’t know, man,” he says, hoping Zach can’t tell how strained his voice is over the obnoxious electro-pop. “That’s a little more psychology than I like to employ in my fantasies.”

Zach rolls his eyes. “Typical straight guy. No nuance. No subtlety. Give you a nice pair of tits and that’s all you need.”

“I hate to tell you, Zachary, but there is no subtlety here.”

Chris has given up on trying to avert his eyes. It’s pointless. He could look elsewhere in the club, but it seems like no matter where his eyes land, there’s another shower stall, another man combing fingers through wet hair or running his hands all over his own glistening skin. It’s like a fucking minefield.

“And why exactly did you want to bring me here tonight of all nights?” Chris asks, shooting Zach an accusatory look.

But Zach just grins and shrugs. “I didn’t know this was happening tonight. You just got lucky.” He takes Chris by the arm again. “Now, come on. Let’s get drinks.”

Two neon pink shots later, Chris is feeling more than a little hot under the collar. Both literally and figuratively. The place is packed, so Zach has been pressed up against him for what feels like forever, all long, lean heat against his side and warm breath on his neck when he leans in to speak in his ear. And Chris just…can’t stop looking. Can’t stop turning to glance over his shoulder at the guy in the box nearest to the bar. He’s tall and slender like Zach, and his arms are covered in dark hair like Zach’s, hair that’s been slicked down by the water. He’s wearing this shameless pair of black briefs that cling to him so obscenely he might as well be naked. And sure, maybe Chris can appreciate an attractive guy. Maybe he can admit a certain level of aesthetic enjoyment. Maybe…

Zach catches him looking. Chris sees the moment of realization, the way Zach’s eyebrows shoot up and his lips fall open just slightly and his nostrils flare. Fuck. _Fuck_. Chris knows that look, but he’s never seen it turned on him. The bottom drops out of his stomach.

“We’re dancing,” Zach says, pulling him closer and speaking right in his ear. “Right now.”

“O-okay.” Chris can only shuffle after him obediently, because it’s either that or cling to the bar and wait for the other shoe to drop, and he doesn’t think he can do that.

But then they get out onto the dance floor, and Zach puts his hands on Chris’s waist and spins him so he can still look at that guy over Zach's shoulder, the dark-haired one near the bar, and Chris realizes _this_ is the other shoe dropping. This right here—Zach pulling Chris close so their hips are flush, Zach leaning in so close his lips brush the sensitive skin beneath Chris’s ear.

“So you like it, huh?” Zach asks. His voice is a dull rumble, just barely audible under the music even as close as they are. “I thought it wasn’t subtle enough for you.”

Chris can’t think. He imagines he can almost hear the sound of water hitting skin. He can almost feel it, in the way sweat slides down his own spine. Zach’s hands migrate to the small of Chris's back and their hips roll in time with the music and all the while he never stops talking, not for one second.

“You want to climb in there with him? Put your hands on his body, feel all that wet skin?” Chris groans, and his eyes flutter shut, imagining it. “I bet he’d let you. You could grab him through those soaking briefs, make him hard for you, make him beg you.”

“Zach,” Chris gasps. His body is reacting now, and Zach has to feel that, feel how he’s hard against his hip. Part of his mind is reeling, confused, but the rest of it just wants more of this however he can get it. More of Zach’s hands and his voice. More of everything.

Zach growls and nips lightly at Chris’s neck, making him gasp again. “Or maybe you want to get in there alone, strip down to your underwear and step under that water and feel the eyes of every guy in here on you. Because they’d all fucking look, Chris. And they’d all want you.”

It’s too much. Chris hasn’t been this turned on while fully clothed since he was a teenager, and he thinks given a little more time he could come like this, grinding against Zach on the dance floor. If Zach doesn’t stop winding him up. Stop teasing.

“Do _you_ want me?” he asks breathlessly, leaning back far enough to look Zach in the eye.

“Fuck, yes,” Zach says, and then he is grabbing Chris by the back of the neck and hauling him in and bringing their mouths together. And Chris goes willingly, opening for Zach’s tongue, groaning into his mouth and burying his fingers in his hair and letting him know in no uncertain terms that he wants Zach too.

“Get us out of here,” he pleads against Zach’s mouth. Because there’s a real shower waiting for them back at the hotel, and right now just watching isn’t enough.


End file.
